Born From Ashes
by xasiannoodlesx
Summary: It's been a long time since HRE  -Hartwig-  has passed away, and Prussia  -Gilbert-  misses his brother. Suddenly, the urn holding Hartwig's ashes shatters. What on earth has happened? Is this Gilbert's second chance at being an awesome brother?
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Hi there! So this plot bunny has been bothering me for a while. Don't know how good this is, and I may re-write this chapter, but I wanted to post it. HRE's name is Hartwig, meaning, "brave in battle". This first chapter is sort of a forward to the actual story. _

The scent of sweat and putrefying flesh tainted the air, but a white-haired youth ignored it. He surveyed the battlefield with his shockingly red eyes in hopes of finding someone important. This last battle had been completely crushing. Though things had been falling apart before, nothing had ever been as devastating as this. Corpses had been abandoned as both sides fled the scene; though Gilbert knew finding the body he was looking for was unlikely. The enemy had probably taken the body to parade it about the streets in glee. Regardless, Gilbert continued searching for his brother's corpse, determined to bring it home for a proper funeral.

Gilbert froze as he saw a small figure lying quite separate from the rest of the bodies on the ground. The young man, dressed in the finest of battle-wear, could only be his brother, Hartwig. It appeared he was still breathing, but only just. The albino boy hurried towards his brother and fell to the ground beside him. Gilbert's eyes widened as he realized the extent of Hartwig's injuries. Blood oozed out of a long slash from his brother's shoulder to hip. Francis was the only one who could have delivered such a terrible blow. Gilbert shuddered as he imagined Hartwig staring at the mad Frenchman's blade before it sank into his flesh. There was no way Hartwig could survived such a wound in his already weakened state. He was dying a long and painful death.

Gilbert forced himself not to cry as he pulled Hartwig's head onto his lap. Hartwig's eyes stared off into the distance as he whimpered in pain. Suddenly, blue eyes found red eyes as Hartwig focused on his brother. Both realized Hartwig was running out of time.

"Bruder… you found me," said Hartwig, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Of course I did, Hartwig!" Replied Gilbert.

"Chibitalia. I want to see Chibitalia," sobbed the blonde boy. It had been such a long time since Hartwig had seen his childhood love. He wished he could touch her soft brown hair again. He wished he could say goodbye again.

"You'll see Chibitalia soon, bruder," Gilbert murmured. Though he was slightly irritated that his presence wasn't enough to properly comfort his brother, he'd say anything at this point to ease his brother's passing.

"I miss her. I miss her so much. I shouldn't have gone to war. I shouldn't have left her," Hartwig continued to cry.

"Shh. Shh, Hartwig. In Heaven, you'll see Chibitalia, or a form of her at least. She'll be smiling and laughing or something…" babbled Gilbert, not really making any sense to himself anymore.

"Gilbert… Tell Chibitalia I loved her. That I really loved her. Chibitalia…"

Hartwig's eyes slowly began to close as a final tear slid out of his eye and landed on Gilbert's shirt. His heart thudded irregularly a few times before it finally gave up. A loud silence filled the battlefield as Gilbert bent to kiss his brother's forehead. Normally proud and strong Gilbert was surprised to find himself breaking down as his lips lingered on Hartwig's still-warm forehead. Though Gilbert was no stranger to violence and death, this was different. It was a different sort of pain. Eventually, one of Gilbert's attendants found him clutching Hartwig's body and managed to get him up. The body was quickly taken out of the battlefield so Francis' troops wouldn't notice.

It was no surprise to Gilbert that transporting his brother's body back in time for a respectable funeral was impossible. It was still somewhat devastating, though. Instead, Hartwig's body was to be cremated. Gilbert made sure his brother was dressed in his best clothes and all grime was cleaned off his body. It may have been pointless as the body was going to be reduced to ashes, but Gilbert knew that is what his brother would have wanted. Gilbert's attendants wisely forced him to stay in his tent during the cremation, and brought him the ashes later in a beautiful urn. Gilbert held the urn for a long time, barely comprehending that his brother had literally been reduced to ashes. Hartwig had never been strong, really, but it was hard to believe he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

__Chapter Beta'd by MissBipolarBOTDF 

_Years Later_

Silver moonlight streamed through the scarlet-eyed man's window, dancing upon the gold embroidery of his chair-cushion. Gilbert sat with a book in his lap, still dressed from the day's meeting. His attention wandered as he contemplated the battle strategies and arguments of the day. It was infuriating to have no say in the present matters as the country representative, the latest agreement over his role. Nevertheless, a question lingered in the air, something everyone wanted to know, yet no one dared ask. It was only a matter of time before orders were given, more men were rallied, and blood was spilled. Gilbert was restless and eager to conquer more territory. He was no stranger to war. Sometimes all the battles he had been in melted into one long nightmare, like the one keeping him awake on this quiet night. Somehow, he had never become immune to the deaths of his men. The never-ending, searing pain that plagued him in wartimes was a hefty price to pay for the sweet taste of victory.

Gilbert snapped the heavy book shut and rose from his lavish chair. He began walking, not to any particular location, but just to do something. His boots clicked loudly up and down the castle walls. It appeared that everyone but the night guards had long retired. Everything was silent. It was as if the castle was holding its breath, waiting for a swift victory or long defeat.

He hadn't realized he was headed to this room until he was opening the thick, stubborn door. Candles were always burning brightly in this somber room of memories. Gilbert had requested it to be refurbished after the death of his brother. Most did not understand why Hartwig, Representative of the Holy Roman Empire, had such a room dedicated to him in Gilbert's castle. Gilbert had never been openly affectionate to his brother while he was alive, though the pair did play together as children. This room was the resting place of the little blonde boy's ashes. This room was Gilbert's reminder of his greatest failure.

Gilbert slowly walked across the small room and knelt on a worn velvet cushion before the simple wooden cross. Bowing his head, he began praying for his brother. He hoped Hartwig was somewhere happy with his little girlfriend and lots of flowers. He hoped Hartwig was looking down and saw him suffering, questioning, and would send a sign showing that he cared.

After he finished praying, Gilbert slowly rose from the cushion and glanced at the urn in the corner. The silver urn was beautiful, even if it was a bit dusty. There was something a bit different about it, though. Gilbert couldn't place what it was as he turned towards the door. He quietly slipped out of the sad room and closed the door behind him.

Gilbert's thoughts weighed him down as he trudged back to his chambers. He had learned from his failure with Hartwig. If he had another chance to be a brother, he would be such an awesome one that his brother would never get hurt.

Gilbert got ready for bed as soon as he reached his chambers, as he was suddenly very fatigued. He changed into his nightshirt before slipping under his plush blankets and closing his eyes. Slowly, Gilbert drifted off into a strange dream…

_The silver urn, illuminated by candlelight, began shaking violently. It then split open like a flower blooming. Strange ribbon-like streaks of blue and green were released and dissolved into the walls of the room. As the urn continued to split, the contents were caught in a spiral, and they twisted about until the shape of a man was formed. The shape glowed a deep red like Gilbert's eyes before blonde hair and a strong jaw were formed. As the fiery figure began to change into a more normal color, he opened his eyes to reveal piercing, sky blue orbs._


	3. Chapter 3

The cheerful song of a little yellow bird filled a rather opulent bedchamber in a dreary grey castle. The companion of the Representative of Prussia flew over to the elegant bed in the center of the room and landed upon the head of the man sleeping in it. Continuing to sing merrily, the bird began poking his owner awake.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Eventually, Gilbert was annoyed enough by his little friend to open his deep red eyes. Gilbird flew off his owner to the safety of the dresser as Gilbert rubbed his eyes. The bird sang even louder as Gilbert tried to remember what he had dreamed about. It was rather strange… something about Hartwig's ashes? A blonde man appearing from flames? Strange. Well, it was time to start another day, and Gilbert was going to make it as awesome as he possibly could. No use wondering about something as silly as a dream.

Gilbert leisurely rolled out of bed and stretched. A servant had already laid out his clothes for the day, all made of the highest quality material. Dressing quickly, Gilbert glanced at himself in the full-length mirror. As he had no formal meetings scheduled, he was garbed in a simple white shirt, black pants and soft boots. Despite being dressed so simply, he still attached his sword to his hip before heading to the informal dining area for breakfast. His little yellow friend rode on his head, preening his feathers in a nest of white hair.

Halfway down a rather long corridor, Gilbird starting tweeting. He flew off Gilbert's head and down the hall.

"Buddy, where are you going? Gilbird!" Gilbert exclaimed.

The bird has resumed singing, though it changed to a tune Gilbert hadn't heard in a while. He followed the birdsong around many twists and turns until he was standing before that room again. Though Gilbert had closed the door behind him the previous night, the heavy door was partially ajar. Servants were forbidden to enter his room unless they were ordered to clean it. Whoever dared disobey Gilbert's order was in serious trouble. A knot started tying in Gilbert's stomach, an unusual occurrence for him. Cautiously, Gilbert opened the door and stepped inside, his heart fluttering.

A blonde man dressed in simple clothes sat upon the pedestal where Hartwig's ashes were once kept. His eyes were a piercing blue, a shockingly familiar color to Gilbert. It wasn't Hartwig's eye color- Hartwig's eyes were more of a sapphire. No, this sky blue shade matched the hue of the man who appeared in Gilbert's dream. There was no way this was possible. Gilbert blinked several times before unsheathing his sword.

"Who are you? Declare yourself!" commanded Gilbert.

"I am… I don't know." Replied the blonde man, a confused look on his face.

"Please, do not hurt me bruder." Said the man in a deep voice.

" 'Bruder'? You are no bruder of mine" snarled Gilbert. Here, of all places, to have to talk of brotherhood. "Who are you? Declare yourself!"

"I am…" the blonde man stopped and considered before continuing, "I do not know."

"Nonsense, everyone knows who they are. I am Gilbert of Prussia!" the white-haired man exclaimed.

The blue-eyed man stared solemnly at Gilbert. Eyes widening, Gilbert realised this man was hardly more than a child.

"Okay… you don't know who you are. So, I will give you a totally awesome name! Er… Ludwig! Yes, that sounds good." Contemplated Gilbert.

Gilbert took his sword out of its sheath in a flash.

"Ludwig… Ludwig… Ludwig of what?" asked the newly named Ludwig.

"The scratch I made on your face healed much faster than it should have…" said Gilbert, hesitantly reaching out to touch Ludwig's cheek. "You must be a country representative. Name your country, Ludwig."

Ludwig frowned as he considered where he was from. Who was he? Where were his roots? Something in his head kept saying…

"I am Ludwig of Deutschland!"

"'Ludwig of Deutschland', eh? Not bad at all, bruder." Said Gilbert.

"Gilbert, you said I was no bruder of yours. Why am I your brother now?" asked Ludwig.

"Come, little bruder. Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving." Replied Gilbert offhandedly.

The newly declared brothers walked side by side to the dining room, where the servants accepted the new man without a question. By now, they had learned not to question who Gilbert spent his time with. Gilbert played with his food as he watched Ludwig eat a roll.

_You are my bruder now because you are my second chance. I will be the best big bruder ever. I'll never let you get hurt, Ludwig. Because I'm not sure I can live through the pain again. I have to be even more awesome for you now._

* * *

><p>AN: Chapter Beta'd by the lovely MissBipolar BOTDF<p>

Sorry this update took so long- school restarted. GRR.


	4. Chapter 4

Breakfast was a strange affair; there was not another way to describe it. The servants were confused about exactly who Ludwig was, because Gilbert had requested for the blue-eyed man to be treated as a Representative. Therefore, he was entitled to treatment equal to Gilbert's. Ludwig was overwhelmed because there were simply too many new things happening all at once. Though his new brother probably would not have let him, Ludwig would have been delighted to wander around the castle looking at all the art hanging on the walls. Gilbert was simply infuriated about the whole situation. It quickly became evident that Ludwig knew absolutely nothing. Well, he was able to read and write. Yet, he knew nothing of the past, even the most recent occurrences.

Tempers were running high while the brothers ate a light meal of fruit and bread. The pair left the hall not really knowing what to say to each other when Ludwig spotted a chessboard in the parlor. He wasn't entirely certain why, but something in Ludwig made him really want to try his hand at chess. Gilbert agreed to play and was actually quite eager to see if Ludwig had any innate talent at chess.

He found himself staring dumbstruck at his new brother barely an hour later. No one had ever managed to defeat him at chess, and certainly not as quickly as Ludwig had just done.

"You know, Ludwig, you might be a really good general or something," remarked Gilbert as he quickly reset the chessboard to play again. His thoughts were racing, and he was a bit distracted, causing him to lose again. How was it possible that a man who didn't know yesterday's weather could be able to play chess so well? Gilbert did not really care, and he was running out of patience when an idea formed in his head.

"Bruder, we ought to do something practical. It is time to learn the art of combat!" he exclaimed, eager to avoid another round of chess.

"Ja, that sounds good. What should we do first?" asked Ludwig, running a finger over the black knight piece.

"Follow me! I have an awesome plan for the… er… afternoon!" called Gilbert as he turned and walked out of the dining area.

Gilbert quickly walked down a confusing path of twisting corridors and spiral staircases. Ludwig followed him, paying close attention to the route. Eventually, the brothers reached a heavily guarded door. The guards before Gilbert bowed and opened the doors for the Representative of Prussia. Ludwig awkwardly followed his white-haired brother into a large chamber; fully aware the guards were staring at him. He soon forgot the questioning glances when he began looking around. Lined with long rows of weapons, the weaponry was a site to behold.

Ludwig walked up and down the long rows of weapons. His boots clicked on the floor and echoed down the chamber.

"How am I supposed to choose what to use?" he muttered to himself.

Gilbert sprang up behind his brother, scaring him a bit.

"Most of the weapons here are a bit outdated, at least where we are here. I was thinking of training you in the older weapons first, then moving you up through the ages!" he laughed.

So half an hour later, Ludwig found himself with a quiver of arrows over his back, clutching a large bow.

"He's got to be joking," he said under his breath, just loud enough to be heard.

"I'm hardly joking," replied Gilbert, with an evil grin on his face. "I've already had the servants set up some targets."

Half an hour and many close calls later, it was obvious to both brothers that Ludwig was hopeless with a bow .

"All right, I'm tired of seeing you struggle with those arrows. I never liked them very much either. Here!" Gilbert shouted, tossing a sword at Ludwig.

Ludwig caught it effortlessly and unsheathed it, holding it in his hands. It certainly felt better to him than the bow had. Gilbert had already taken out his sword and was giving it a few warm up swings when Ludwig lunged at him. Gilbert dodged the blow and the pair began dueling. Though Ludwig was no match for his red-eyed brother, it was evident he was still an excellent swordsman. The blade began to feel heavy in his hand as Gilbert continued on offense. Suddenly the tip of Gilbert's blade was pointed directly at Ludwig's throat.

"How are you so good with the blade, Ludwig?" Gilbert asked, panting slightly.

Ludwig looked down at the elegant sword he held and frowned. Where did his skills with the sword come from? Just a few minutes ago was the first time he had ever held a blade.

"I do not know, Bruder. It is as if I have done this before." He replied.

Gilbert paused. Hartwig had also had excellent swordsmanship, and fought in a similar style to Ludwig. He must have had a strange look on his face, for Ludwig was looking curiously at him.

"Do you feel all right? You look a bit ill."

"I'm fine. Let's stop here for today. I'll let you use some modern weapons tomorrow, alright?" replied Gilbert, a bit harsher than necessary.

Gilbert called for a servant and had Ludwig escorted to one of the many lavish guest rooms. Once his blonde brother was out of site, Gilbert found himself on his knees, hands clutching his throbbing head. His new brother and his old brother were so similar, but they were not the same. They never would be the same, either. Both were good at strategy and combat. Both had blonde hair and blue eyes that looked deep into people's souls. The difference was, Hartwig was long dead and Gilbert had done nothing to stop his death. Ludwig was alive and quickly learning the arts of war. Hartwig knew too much, and Ludwig knew nothing. Perhaps that was the best way overall.

* * *

><p>Chapter Beta'd by MissBipolarBOTDF<p>

Sorry I didn't update in a while- this is a slow update story because I'm so busy! Also, there's some personal issues going on. Sorry .


	5. Chapter 5

Despite deep grey clouds looming overhead, Gilbert and Ludwig met each other at the entrance of the training field directly after their noon meal. Both were sore from the previous day's exercise, though neither dared admit it. Gilbert was pleased to see that the various guns and other weapons were laid out on a table as he had requested.

Ludwig's eyes widened as he noticed how many different types of firearms there were lying about. Most looked glossy and new with only a handful looking as if they had ever been touched before.

"Good afternoon, Ludwig."

"Good afternoon, bruder. Today we're working with modern weaponry, because that's what is actually practical these days. You worked with older weapons yesterday so I could have a laugh, kesesese!" Gilbert chuckled, the image of Ludwig struggling to hold a bow remotely properly seeping into his mind.

Ludwig frowned and replied, "Stop laughing at me, Gilbert! What should we start off with?"

"Just pick up whatever looks good to you. You'll figure out what you like to have on you, and what drags you down, eventually."

The elder watched his little brother walk up and down the length of the table, occasionally picking up a weapon that interested him. Ludwig was actually just picking up random weapons off the table. He had no idea about what a proper weapon should feel like in his hand. However, he stopped suddenly, holding a handsome black revolver.

"What is this called?" asked Ludwig.

"That's an M1879 Reichsrevolver. Six-shot revolver, nice basic handgun to keep on you," replied Gilbert.

"Can I try it out?"

"What do you think the targets over there are for?" Gilbert replied, smirking.

Ludwig briskly walked over to the targets. Upon realizing the weapon was already loaded, he raised it to shoulder height. Something overtook Ludwig at this point, something he didn't quite understand. He shifted his grip on the weapon and fired directly in the center of the target.

Behind him, Ludwig heard someone clapping.

"Nice job, West! Shoot the rest of the bullets!" called Gilbert.

"Why am I suddenly 'West', Gilbert?" asked Ludwig. He fired the rest of the shots, all hitting the center of the target.

"Because, haven't you noticed you always stand to the west of me?"

"Whatever, Gilbert. I think I've run out of bullets." Replied Ludwig.

Until the clouds cleared up and it became too hot to continue, Ludwig tried his hand at the various weapons on the table. Though he was fair with a cannon and could throw hand-grenades quite far, it was evident he favored any sort of gun. There was something powerful controlling Ludwig whenever he raised a firearm. Gilbert wasn't entirely certain what was going on about that, but he was too distracted to care.

A letter had arrived at some point during the day, requesting a meeting of nations. There was apparently something going on in China, and all foreigners were in danger. Gilbert bade Ludwig good-bye and hurried to the meeting.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm deeply sorry for taking such a long time to update. Life has basically slapped me in the face. Regardless, I'll try to post before next Friday.<br>As always, thank you to my wonderful Beta MissBipolarBOTDF! _


	6. Chapter 6

The black horse-drawn carriage made its way through the very-uneven countryside as Gilbert convinced himself he wasn't going to be sick. Watching pastures and trees go by was mildly calming. Luckily, as a representative he was permitted to travel through other countries' lands without settling paperwork, so the trip to England's house was not going to be too long. As England had called this 'Emergency World Meeting', he was forced to host it. Unfortunately for the representatives, this meant suffering through England's terrible food until an agreement was reached.

The uniformed guards parted as Gilbert staggered up the steps of the stately hall. An attractive maid led him down to the high-security conference room at which the Representatives were to have their meeting. Perhaps on another day he would have tried to catch her eye, but not on this day. There was a high potential for money and deals to be made, and offending Arthur was not going to help his cause.

Upon reaching the conference room after taking a decent number of twists and turns down long corridors, Gilbert realised he was rather late for the meeting. It did not bother him that he was late, as there were other things on his mind.

His scarlet eyes first fell on the two Representatives closest to the door, Roderich and Elizaveta. Gilbert found himself growing extremely angry as he noticed a large ring on Elizaveta's slender finger. The official union of his former love and bitter enemy still burned Gilbert every day. The beautiful brunette should have been his, not the piano-lover's.

To the couple's left sat an extremely tall, purple-eyed man - Ivan. He was the representative of Russia, and just looking at him sent shivers up Gilbert's spine. In contrast, a strange black-haired man with dull eyes sat beside him. Another stranger with brown hair and a large curl appeared to be asleep beside him. Two new representatives meant there were two new countries for Gilbert to prove his superiority to.

At the head of the table sat a very irritable-looking Arthur, who looked like he was under verbal attack from Alfred and Francis. It was no surprise that they were already fighting, even though the meeting had yet to begin.

Arthur stood, silencing the room with a surprisingly icy glare.

'Ahem. I have called you all here today not so we can fight amongst ourselves. Rather, I require your assistance. Wang Yao has fallen ill as his country is under extreme stress, and some of his people have attacked my embassy. This is a perfect time to force that resistance rat into trading with us. He and his country are weak. This will be simple, if you agree to help me.'

As expected in any meeting of Representatives, chaos broke out after Arthur's announcement. Based on Yao's hostile reactions to previous attempts of peace, war was the only solution. The problem was simply how to divide up duties without angering anyone else. Gilbert decided it was easier to be assigned a task rather than try to plan the ordeal out himself, and watched everyone else argue. The short black-haired man seemed to be doing the same thing, which seemed rather strange. Eventually, it was determined that Alfred could not be the hero, and instead was to send warships to the Philippines, and generally stay out of everyone else's way.

There was a formal agreement, one Gilbert did not pay much attention to. Thoughts swirled in his mind, mostly about his brother and the union of Roderich and Elizaveta. He had no idea if he should agree to terms as Prussia, or the German Empire. If he agreed as the latter, he would be forcing Ludwig into taking eventual responsibility for whatever the empire turned into. Agreeing as Prussia would be a terribly foolish move considering present circumstances. There was no middle ground, no easy way out. That left one option.

Silence filled the room as everyone sat deep in thought. It was time to agree or disagree with whatever terms had been presented. There was no backing out.

'I, Arthur of England, agree to the terms.'

'Right there with you! Alfred of the United States of America agrees.'

'The spectacular Gilbert of the German Empire agrees.'

All eyes turned on Gilbert, unspoken questions filling the room.

'Long story short, I have a brother. His name is Ludwig of Germany, and together we are representing the German Empire.'

'Right, now there's no time for this! Representatives who have not made their positions clear, please do so now,' nagged Arthur.

'I was just wondering what made him so "awesome",' Elizaveta murmured to her husband, who chuckled slightly. Gilbert found himself filling with rage, but knew he had to keep himself in check. After all, if he beat Roderich up, Elizaveta would come at him with that stupid frying pan.

'We, Roderich and Elizaveta of the Austro-Hungarian Empire agree to the terms, Arthur,' said Roderich in that horrible, cold voice of his.

'Da, Ivan of Russia agrees as well,' said the creepy Russian.

'Hai, I, Kiku of Japan, agree to the terms,' said the Asian man.

'Feliciano of Italy agrees to the terms. I speak on my brother's behalf as well!'

'Well then, everything has been decided. We shall invade China in three weeks!' declared Arthur. Fierce determination was aflame in his eyes. The Brit was not going to lose this war against the faltering old dragon. It was time the power of the West destroyed the power of the East.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, I am ashamed of myself. Life got busy and I haven't been able to write much. I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I will try my best to update more often. <strong>

**So yes, those are the countries involved in the Boxer Rebellion. Is this thing historically accurate in general though? Not in the slightest. **

**Chapter Beta'd by MissBipolarBOTDF**


End file.
